


Wings

by Daisyflo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Ben is a Gentle Tall, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Greenhouse fucking, Hurt/Comfort, Lepidopterophobia, No Pregnancy, Protective Ben Solo, Rey is brave, Rose is a Fierce Smol, Smut, bang bang on the floor, fear of butterflies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisyflo/pseuds/Daisyflo
Summary: Desperate to overcome a lifelong fear of hers, Rey visits a butterfly farm- but the employee who saves her from a clingy butterfly gives her heart palpitations of an entirely different kind.Rey is scared of butterflies. Ben works in the greenhouse she's visiting. What could go wrong?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 63
Kudos: 353
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

> While I promise this is NOT a horror story, Rey is scared of butterflies and tiny panic attacks are described. I tried to tag everything I could think of but if you think I forgot something, please tell me! Warning, the dividers are pictures of butterflies.
> 
> Huge thank you to Raven_Maiden for her help ♥
> 
> based on [this prompt](https://twitter.com/charIiebarbers/status/1243140189964337153?s=20)

There’s nothing wrong about having fears. At least that’s what Rose says the day Rey mentions her aversion for bugs, and more specifically, butterflies.

It’s not that she fears for her life or anything: she knows butterflies aren’t dangerous, and she’s perfectly able to look at them through pictures or paintings. But movies… movies are a little more complicated. There’s something about the speed of their movements that just covers her body with goosebumps and pushes her to run far from them. So of course, when Rose sends her articles about desensitization therapy, Rey immediately shivers at the idea of being locked in a white cabinet filled with thousands of the flying monsters flapping their wings around her.

She rarely reacts, and Rose doesn’t bring it up again, but the words in those articles stick with Rey as days grow longer and flowers start blooming in her neighborhood.

The first incident happens the one night her roommate is out, resulting in her abandoning her room to the moth that took up residence there to finish her night on the couch. Finn wakes her up in the early morning with the promise that she can go back there safely, but she’s just unable to. She trusts him, she knows he wouldn’t lie, but _what if_ ? What if that thing is still there hiding — worse, what if there are _others_?

“Rey, I… this is getting out of hand.”

Rose gives her a look as she explains how the couch is ruining her back, as well as her ability to sleep more than three hours a night.

Finn said that, too, but there isn’t an ounce of judgment or amusement in Rose’s voice. Only concern and sympathy, and... maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the way she feels misunderstood, but Rey feels her teeth grit and a tear roll down her cheek before she can stop it.

“Hey, shh, it’s ok.” Her vision blurs just as Rose’s hand comes above hers, tenderly squeezing her fingers.

“It’s not, I’m— God, this is _ridiculous_.”

Anyone else would have agreed, laughed, or shrugged- but Rose just shakes her head.

Meeting Rose was, just like half of her life, unplanned: they were both bored to death at one of those office parties, enough for Rose to come introduce herself and offer her the drink that sealed their friendship in the most unpredictable way. A hangover and a week later, they exchanged numbers. They haven’t spent a lunch break without each other since then, and despite the little time they’ve known each other, their friendship is already strong enough for Rey to believe it when Rose shakes her head again.

“Not at all. Actually, please don’t be mad at me— I made some research, I wanted to do something to help—”

Rey closes her eyes to avoid the looks of the people around them as another load of tears streams down her face. The coffee shop is a little more crowded than usual and the chances of other customers eavesdropping on their conversation is low, but right now, shame is louder than reason.

“Do you want me to stop talking about this?” Rose asks quietly.

The instinctive answer is _yes_ : yes, and can they please never mention any weakness on her side ever again and act like the shadows under her eyes are due to many hours working on her project and not fear-induced insomnia? It’s the usual option and by far the easiest, but the words of the article she read last night echo in her mind like an annoying conscience: _“a fear of butterflies can sometimes be the manifestation of something else._ ” Another fear, sometimes, or a loss, according to most experts- something Rey really, really doesn’t want to think about.

“No, you’re right,” she murmurs with a shake of her head. “This is getting out of hand. Go on.”

Rose remains silent for a moment, giving her the time to regain control over her breathing before she speaks again. “I found this place, and it’s only half an hour away. A butterfly farm.”

She stops for a second, waiting for a reaction, and continues when Rey doesn’t give any.

“They have tons of good reviews and even a small café. When you’re ready— _if you’re ready_ _—_ we can go together and… I don’t know, maybe just watch from afar? Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

It doesn’t sound that scary when she says it like that, so Rey nods and scoots closer to hug her friend- and maybe hide the tears of relief and exhaustion rolling down her cheeks.

They go on a Saturday after a copious lunch at Maz’s, on Rey’s request. Rose insisted they didn’t have to go this soon, but the couch is getting less and less comfortable as days pass. She’s not exactly excited about the whole process— the thought of which makes her shiver plenty of times on the ride. But the sheer promise of a maybe-solution is enough to take her out of the car.

“I can’t,” she blurts out when they reach the greenhouse.

“You _can_ ,” Rose corrects, “but it’s ok if you don’t _want_ to.”

The greenhouse’s windows are tainted with condensation and an infinite ocean of plants. She can hear just how many people are in there, how crowded it sounds. Maybe it’s a good thing? Maybe the butterflies will bother people who actually want to see them?

A shiver runs down her spine. Her hair is tied in three tight buns they can’t tangle in, and her windbreaker is long enough to cover both her arms and the majority of her face.

She can do it.

“I can leave any time, right?”

She hates the tremor in her voice and how ridiculous she must sound, but Rose stays as impassive as ever. “We’re leaving as soon as you want us to.”

Rey takes a deep breath and nods. She’s going to hate every second of this, but... she’s been hating every day of spring for twenty-five years. More than anything, she’s come to absolutely loathe the couch she’s recently taken up residence on.

Her hand finds Rose’s and she nods again, ready to visit hell’s threshold.

**-**

The greenhouse is absolutely _crowded_. There are kids running around, strollers around every corner (who even brings a baby in a butterfly farm?) and so, so many plants. The atmosphere is stifling.

Rey is certain she’s going to have a panic attack before they make it to the exit. There are leaves everywhere, hanging from the giant bushes and grazing her arms every now and then, giving her heart a jump each time. The butterflies seem too preoccupied by the many visitors to come bother her, but her skin is a map of shivers anyway. Her entire body is dreading the moment something will fly past her, inevitably touching her.

Her hand squeezes Rose’s at the thought, who squeezes it back.

“You’re doing great,” she murmurs with a smile.

Rey wants to believe her. She does, a little. She may not be surrounded by a flock of butterflies, but she’s in a greenhouse, walking among trees with the risk of crossing paths with her worst fear. She’s here, still standing, even if it’s on wobbly legs.

Feeling a little bold, she lets go of Rose’s hand and takes a deep breath.This isn’t the traumatic experience she thought it would be _—_ this may even be the beginning of the end of her fear. She smiles, taking in their surroundings when she realizes how many flowers have been set there. Now _that_ is something she knows about: there’s goldenrod, purple coneflowers, stonecrops and tickseeds, and _—_

And then a tickling on her forearm catches her breath in her throat.

“Rose…”

Judging by her friend’s look, what’s currently grazing her skin doesn’t have petals.

“I know, I’ll just _—_ don’t move, I’ll blow on it. It’s ok.”

All traces of courage Rey found in the last minutes vanish instantly. She wants to scream, cry, and run away all at once, but not a sound leaves her. She can already feel multiple pairs of eyes staring at them curiously as Rose bends before her and blows on her arm. She grits her teeth in an attempt to control the tears threatening to fall.

“He’s used to the wind. That won’t drive him away.”

Both girls freeze and look up to the staff member approaching them. If Rey wasn’t so busy trying not to lose her mind, she probably would’ve smiled at him. The man is tall and handsome in a way she doesn’t quite understand: there’s something about the contrast that he is, all pale in an assortment of black and dark grey that doesn’t even hide how absolutely _wide_ he is. It’s only enhanced when Rose stands up next to him, both her eyebrows raised in the way they do when she’s trying to intimidate someone.

“Their wings are thick,” he adds. “They’re from windy environments.”

“How do we get him to move, then?”

Even though much smaller, Rose suddenly looks way more impressive than the man, who seems taken aback by the severity of her voice. Or perhaps the absurdity of the situation. “You… don’t.” He points a finger _—_ a long, thick finger _—_ towards a sign standing right behind them. “You can’t touch the butterflies.”

Rey is positive her entire body is shivering at his words _—_ though this might be the wings tickling her skin.

“My friend doesn’t like butterflies,” Rose tries to explain, her voice impatient.

“You’re in a _greenhouse_.”

“Yeah, we _noticed_ _—_ ”

“Rose...”

They both stop in a ridiculous state of mid-argument, their eyes wide and jaws clenched as they turn to Rey, as if they forgot she was even there. Rose’s anger immediately disappears from her face, giving way to guilt and concern. She opens her mouth and starts moving towards her, but the staff member is faster. Brows furrowed with concern, he closes the distance between them and bends just enough for Rey to notice the notes of sandalwood and coffee that come with his proximity.

“Don’t move,” he whispers. Rey can only obey, because she certainly doesn’t want to move _—_ not when his face is inches away from hers, and his fingers are tickling her skin in a way that’s far more pleasant that the creature perched on her. Slowly, delicately, he grazes the butterfly’s legs and her arm with it, and it’s a wonder how such big hands can be so soft. “And you’re free.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs.

The smiles he gives her is short-lived, only half visible as he turns to shake the butterfly off his hand, as if it’s the most natural thing to do. “You may want to leave, if this was too much,” he says to Rey. “They’re harmless, but quite abundant around here.”

“No,” she breathes with a shake of her head. “I need to. We wanted _—_ ”

“We’re trying desensitization by exposure,” Rose says like an expert, and maybe a bit of pride.

“Well, that’s new. And… brave of you. Maybe you should come another day when there aren’t so many visitors.”

Rose is thankfully quiet, leaving Rey enough time to process what the man just said. Judging by the way his eyes widen, he’s just as surprised as she is.

“Maybe,” she replies.

None of them moves or speaks for a few seconds _—_ a few, long seconds during which Rey barely notices Rose’s chuckle or the looks on them. What she does notice, though, is the man’s hand moving to his pocket and the crease of his brow as he searches for something. He finds it almost immediately.

“Here,” he mumbles while writing something on the back of a receipt. “Call me next time you want to come. I can give you a twenty minute window in one of the greenhouses.”

Rey’s heart misses a beat when his fingers brush hers as he hands her the paper, and she blinks down at the number written on it.

“Thank you…?”

“Ben.”

Her lips tug in a smile for the first time since they entered the place. “Thank you, Ben.”

She doesn’t hear his voice again until they part somewhere between a particularly leafy wisteria and the exit, when he murmurs something that sounds like a “take care” before he blends back into the crowd of visitors, leaving her with a smiling Rose and a bit of hope.

She comes back on a Tuesday. Ben knows because they receive their weekly order of edible goods on Tuesday, and he’s carrying a crate of tomatoes when he sees her park her car on the little lot he made last year.

He was at the cafe when she called this morning, helping Maz with the tables and what she likes to call the “intercourse of the day”, which consists of getting everything ready before visitors arrive. The joke is as old as the place, and probably something his uncle came up with. It doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when she makes a point of saying it as much as she can just to make him blush _—_ which is also an old family joke.

As much of an oddball as she is, Maz is a good aunt. She’s a good boss, too _—_ though maybe a bit too indulgent when it comes to Ben. She’s always tried to be the cool adult around him, to the point where his father had to step in when she offered him pot when he was sixteen. His mother says it’s because he’s the child that she and Uncle Chewie never had, but there’s no denying the two of them are eternal young souls. They also have the purest hearts Ben has ever seen. They didn’t hesitate to take him in when he knocked on their door three years ago, with a bag full of clothes and his face shadowed with shame.

They never once went through the expected ‘told you so’ when he told them about Snoke, and God knows they could’ve. They warned him _—_ _everyone_ did, but it still took five years and a massive scam for him to open his eyes about the man and mentor he’d mistakenly put his trust in, and finally quit. Maz and Chewie had been nice enough to offer him a job at the farm and didn’t try to trick him into a surprise family reunion. He found himself thinking more than once about not contacting them, out of pure pride, and maybe out of fear that they wouldn’t approve of this new life, either. Working at the farm was far from the life he’d led so far, but it was a peaceful one _—_ something he didn’t want to see tainted with new judgment and expectations.

But no judgment had crossed their lips when he’d picked up his phone and finally made the call. His mother had sounded relieved, and his father… had mumbled something like a groan of approval. He’d done it again the first time Ben came back home, and again when they visited the greenhouse of his first day as nature guide. Slowly, surely, and with much awkwardness, they’d learned to become a family again, with a little help from Maz and Chewie.

It’s a nice life, overall. A bit lonely at times, but less than the one he led working for Snoke. There’s a lot of talking with visitors, which isn’t exactly his favorite part, but he’s learned to get better at making conversation. Which comes in handy as the beautiful young woman approaches.

“Rey, right?” he says it like he hasn’t heard her voice repeating ‘ _Rey, like… a ray_ ’ on loop inside his head.

“Yes. That’s me.”

Her fingers are clasped around her keys, her knuckles so white Ben has to grit his teeth not to wince. Usually visitors are cheery groups of families or couples, always amazed by the butterflies, but Rey _—_ she seems absolutely terrified.

“You’re sure you want to do this? You don’t seem _—_ ”

“Yes, I want to. I _need_ to,” she adds with a wince.

There’s bravery behind her nervous fidgeting, which Ben can only admire. As nervous as she is, she stuck to her word and came. Her breathing sounds okay _—_ Ben did some research about butterfly phobias the day they met. Every article mentioned difficulties breathing and potential tears or screaming. They also said something about the wings, which explained her state when he found her with a Monarch on her arm. He tried not to research too much, though, because whatever this fear is about doesn’t concern him. He tried. And failed.

He’s seen some things about repressed fears that come out as lepidopterophobia- which is apparently what this fear is called. Most articles focused on the unpredictability of butterflies, traumatizing encounters during childhood, or a larger fear of bugs. Ben can’t help but remember a paragraph about being under a lot of stress, or the loss of a loved one. It’s none of his business, really. But he hopes she’s just grossed out by bugs.

“Good.” He nods and clasps his hands together. “I cleared the small greenhouse, it should be… smaller.”

 _Smaller_ . She seems too nervous to notice his stupid word choice, thankfully. Not that he’s thankful for her nervousness _—_ he really isn’t, even if there’s something cute about the way she furrows her brow with anticipation. He really needs to calm down before he becomes one of her fears, too.

Maz throws him a not-so-subtle wink from the door as he puts the crate of tomatoes back into the truck. He knows what it means, he can feel the way his skin turns red from his neck to the tip of his ears _—_ still, he looks away and beckons Rey to follow him with a brief warning shake of his head.

“You’re coming with me?”

Ben stops, one hand on the glass door and the other on his keys. “I can. If you want me to.”

She seems to consider the option for a moment, and then nods. Ben gives her a few more seconds, turns the key, and pushes the door open, motioning for her to go first.

The place is still humid with dew and cold from the night, with only a hint of sun passing through the large windows. Ben usually prefers to come at night and observe this little world from the comfort of the darkness, but he has to admit that the lighting here is spectacular. His eyes drift to Rey, and the particular spot of her face a sunlight has landed on. It’s the first time he notices the cloud of freckles painted over her nose and cheekbones.

“It’s calm,” she murmurs.

“It’s a greenhouse.”

She gives him a frown and continues her slow progression through the plants. Her steps are careful, measured, like she’s visiting a haunted mansion and expecting a monster to jump out of a bush any second _—_ which sort of happens, given the way her face flinches at the sight of a couple of blue butterflies flying past them.

“ _Please keep talking_.”

Her eyes are shut, her jaw tense, so Ben indulges her. “My uncle built this greenhouse himself.” The nod she gives him is brief, almost invisible. Ben takes it as a cue to continue. “It was a gift for my aunt. I think he was thirty.”

“Your uncle owns the place?”

He nods, even though she’s not seeing it. “Family business. Though _—_ he’s not really my uncle. He’s my father’s best friend.”

She doesn’t answer, simply taking a deep breath, and then a new step. Ben mirrors her, making sure she’s always slightly behind him as they keep progressing along the small path of white stones turned grey from the steps of many visitors before them.

“Did she like it?” she asks after a moment. “Your fake aunt,” she adds, when he turns to look at her with a frown. “Did she like it?”

“Oh, she sure did. She proposed right over there.”

She turns to the bench he’s pointing at with raised eyebrows and a smile. “ _She_ proposed?”

“She likes to say he was taking too long.”

Sharing personal stories is unusual for Ben, especially with strangers _—_ but the chuckle that leaves Rey’s throat is worth the brief embarrassment. Her mouth opens like she wants to say something, or maybe laugh again, but it shuts before any sound can leave it. Wide-eyed, she takes a step back and grabs his hand so fast Ben doesn’t even have time to jump at the sensation of her skin against his. He’s probably blushing and _God, this thing is getting ridiculous, Maz was right_ , _he really needs to go on a date and not be so awkward around Rey just because she’s cute._

“Sorry,” she whispers _—_ though she doesn’t really sound sorry. She sounds the opposite of sorry, with her fingers tightened around his palm, squeezing him nervously.

Ben understands her reaction when a tornado of black, white, and orange rushes on his right. Rey winces, drawing a silent gasp from him as her nails graze his palm. He’s positive he’s just as nervous as she is when he squeezes her hand back in a way he hopes is reassuring enough.

“This one is called a Painted Lady,” he murmurs, as the butterfly lands on a branch nearby.

“Ah. She’s… big.”

Ben nods at that, trying hard not to dwell on the fact that her hand is slowly relaxing but still wrapped around his. Random facts about the creature rush through his mind, all of them fascinating, but he’s not sure she wants to hear them. He clears his throat instead, and nods again as he speaks, praying for his question not to be the one too many.

“Can I ask why you’re doing this? You don’t seem… happy about it.”

Her hand doesn’t move, thankfully- but she turns to him with this frown again, like she’s searching for words she doesn’t want to say.

“It’s just irrational. I need it to stop.” Ben notices it’s the second time she refers to today’s experience as something she has to do, not something she wants. Still, he doesn’t talk and hums pensively as she continues. “I haven’t slept in my bed for two weeks.”

“Because of butterflies?”

Ben winces at his own words. _Again_. God, he hopes she doesn’t take it the wrong way.

“ _A_ butterfly,” she corrects. Her mouth does this thing again where it opens and closes, and lets out a nervous chuckle. “This is ridiculous.”

Ben’s voice comes back low and rushed. “No, not at all. Unusual, yes. But not ridiculous.”

He’s shaking his head so much, _he_ must be looking ridiculous. Today must be his lucky day, though; Rey doesn’t seem to notice. Her grip on him tightens ever so slightly, as if it were unconscious.

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you here. Rose wanted to come but I thought I’d be strong enough to do it by myself.”

Ben isn’t sure who Rose is, but he assumes she must be the feisty friend she came with last week. She seems like a good friend _—_ a terrifying stranger, but a good friend. Still, he’s glad she didn’t come.

“You are,” he says quietly. “Look at you. You’re standing in a greenhouse filled with more than two hundreds butterflies.”

Ben bites his lip at his own stupidity when he feels her shudder next to him. “I think you’ve had enough for today,” he continues, gently dragging her back to the door. “Come back another day. Baby steps.”

Rey looks like she’s about to protest for a split second, then raises both her eyebrows. “You don’t mind? I don’t want to be a bother-”

“You won’t. Come back. Please.”

His heart misses a beat when she steps forward, and another when she nods with a smile before following him towards the exit.

“What’s his name?”

“Kylo.”

“The… That’s the scientific name?”

Rey almost chokes on her scone as realization falls on Ben’s face.

He’s very expressive; maybe the most expressive person she’s ever met. His eyes betray his thoughts in a blink, either avoiding hers or staring like he doesn’t realize she can see him. His voice gives away his thoughts with every adjustment, either low or hasty. He’s an open book that Rey is enjoying reading. Immensely. 

“No, that’s- it’s a Blue Morpho. They’re some of the largest butterflies and can live up to two months.”

“ _Kylo_ ,” she repeats with a smirk.

It’s the third time she comes in less than a month. She’s been here every Tuesday morning since her first visit, and every new attempt is a little more successful: she doesn’t shiver anymore when a butterfly comes into view, and is now able to stay up to an hour if Ben is talkative enough to distract her. He usually is, thankfully, and fills her in about whatever happened during the weekend, while she does her best to relax. She does take his hand when they walk, holding onto him like a lifeboat. She always expects him to move, which he never does, so she is the one to take the lead, reveling in the way his warm skin eases her trembling.

Her hand isn’t in his right now, but it’s not that far away, either. They’re sitting on the floor, eating warm scones Ben grabbed from the cafe when she arrived. Rey noticed the way his aunt looked at her from across the parking lot, so warm and friendly she almost waved politely as if she knew her. The way Ben talks about her makes Rey feel like she knows Maz, and she’d love to, really _—_ the woman sounds as terrifying as she seems hilarious.

“Do you think I could touch one?” she asks suddenly. “I know it’s forbidden, but...”

She’s thought about it for a week now. The articles Rose sent didn’t mention anything about touching, but something tells her this is the natural next step. She’s comfortable enough to sit in the greenhouse and not jump at any movement, and there may be a part of her that wants Ben to be proud of her. She wants to prove how much he’s helping, and how well she’s doing now. Show how far she’s come since their first encounter.

“Of course, but are you sure?” It’s ironic that Ben is the more hesitant of them. Rey lets out a little laugh as she nods. “Okay then. Let’s wait until one shows up."

Rey nods again, a wave of satisfaction washing over her. She’s not sure she’ll appreciate this new experience, but she wants to _try_ , and that alone is a victory in itself. Smiling, she grabs another scone from the basket between them and bites into it, glancing at Ben who’s staring at her disbelief. “So... you name them all?”

Her question draws a smirk on his face. “Only my favorites.”

“Are you even allowed to have favorites?”

A full laugh leaves him this time, and Rey can’t help the smile she feels forming on her lips. There’s something about his calm and patient demeanor that sometimes feels like some sort of sadness. She’s seen it once or twice: a brief shadow in his eyes when he thinks she’s not looking. It makes each of his smiles even more precious.

She’s about to say something, anything to keep him laughing when Ben suddenly stretches out and reaches out behind her, causing her cheeks to warm up with the sudden proximity. It doesn’t last long _—_ just a second or two before he goes back to his initial spot, a blue butterfly perched on top of his fingers. “Here. This one’s my favorite.”

“It looks like a Blue Morpho.”

Rey only feels a light tinge in her chest at the flap of wings, shortly followed by another when Ben gives her _that_ smile. “It is,” he confirms with a nod. “Though this one is a bit different.”

He slides a finger under the wings, carefully closing them to reveal what looks like a cut on the bottom of its left wing. Rey frowns, then looks at Ben, who gives her a shrug.

“He almost didn’t get out of his chrysalid. I had to help him, but it didn’t go perfectly.” He winces as if the cut was his own and removes his finger to let the wings open again. “You can touch him. He’s one of the less unpredictable ones.”

It takes Rey a second to process Ben’s offer, and another to remember to breathe. Slowly, _extremely slowly_ , she approaches her index towards the butterfly. She can feel her heart racing as she gets closer, trying to escape her chest while her body remains perfectly still.

The first thing she notices is the lightness of the wing as she grazes it with the tip of her finger. The Blue Morpho closes its wings delicately but doesn’t move otherwise, which is honestly a relief. She’s not sure how she would’ve reacted to a sudden movement. Feeling a little bold, Rey takes a deep breath and grazes the other wing, smiling at the tickling that comes with a new flap.

“He’s nice,” she murmurs.

She almost wants to laugh at how easy it is: she doesn’t want to cry, doesn’t feel in any kind of danger. This may have something to do with Ben _—_ he’s been nothing but gentle and patient with her. Just when she looks up to smile at him, the butterfly takes off and lands on her shoulder, tickling the side of her neck with its wings. She freezes immediately, her eyes on Ben, who seems just equally panicked.

“You’re okay?”

She almost wants him to take it off just to feel his skin against hers again, but the initial fear is quick to vanish _—_ she wants to see how far she can go. “Yes,” she breathes out. “I think. They don’t bite, right?”

Ben shakes his head, still staring at her with a look she can’t quite decipher, like she just did something incredible. Well, she _is_ doubling her efforts not to freak out and run away, but how could she leave when he’s looking at her like that?

Her eyes land on the butterfly still perched on her shoulder. For the first time in years, what she sees aren’t the long legs and antennas. She sees a bright blue painted over wings that look like petals, highlighted by a brown shadow with every flapping. She winces as her eyes skim over the small cut Ben showed her, then closes her eyes when the movements hasten, tickling her arm and covering it with shivers.

“You can move it now,” she mumbles through a strangled chuckle.

Ben rushes over, attempting a light push on the butterfly’s leg that only increases her shivers when he brushes her arm. He does it again, and again, his brow creased with frustration when the Blue Morpho doesn’t move.

“Come on bud, don’t be like that…”

Rey can’t help the smile blooming on her lips. He’s so careful, and yet so eager to save her _—_ she wonders if this is how he looked on that first day, when the greenhouse was crowded and her fear way less controlled. He seems extremely focused and maybe a bit annoyed, though that changes when he looks up to check her reaction. He gives an amused smile. “I think he likes you.”

“Oh, does he?”

She doesn’t miss the way his cheeks turn red, nor the way his fingers linger on her skin even long after the butterfly leaves.

It’s still dark outside when Ben is startled by the light on his phone reflecting against his white ceiling.

2 A.M, according to the numbers displayed right above Rey’s picture.

The first thing he hears is a muffled sob, immediately followed by a series of details about how she’s a duffer and will _“never fix this, never fix this stupid fear nor her stupid abandonment issues, and_ _—_ _”_

Ben stops her before she can finish a particularly upsetting lie about her lack of courage.

“Rey, calm down.”

He hears her inhale through the phone and let out a shaky breath before she speaks again. “I shouldn’t have called you, I’m so sorry Ben. It’s late _—_ go back to bed _—_ ”

“I’m awake,” he interrupts. “What can I do?”

He hopes for a moment, a _brief moment_ , that she’s going to ask him to come over and help her chase a moth out of her room. His brain isn’t awake enough for him to repress these kind of thoughts, and God knows he has had many thoughts about her. She doesn’t reply, though, only lets out another shaky breath that twists his heart in a painful way.

“Come over, I’ll open the greenhouse. It’s okay,” he adds when she agrees through another sob. “Come over. I’ll stay on the phone with you the whole time.”

He only hears the sounds of her sniffing and the car’s engine for the next twenty minutes. He’s just putting his shoes on when she speaks again to say she’s in the parking lot, and it’s probably the first time Ben is thankful for his tiny apartment to be this close to work.

Even in the night, it’s impossible to miss how red and puffy her eyes are when she approaches him with short, stumbly strides.

“What can I do?” Ben asks again. His hands twitch with the desire to throw his arms around her and hold her tightly until she stops crying.

She shrugs, rubbing her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. “I want to see the butterflies.”

Entering the greenhouse at night is very different than on Tuesday mornings. It looks smaller, and maybe a bit more impressive, with sounds she never noticed before.

Ben takes her hand to guide her as he advances through the many plants _—_ and even though she knows the way, Rey lets him, reveling in the reassurance brought by his warmth. She doesn’t protest when his other hand lands on her waist to help her sit down on their usual spot, or when it lingers for a few more seconds.

“What happened?” Ben asks as he sits besides her.

His voice is a murmur, barely audible under the sound of the wind hitting on the wide windows. She wants to ask him to repeat just to hear it again. She’d rather hear his voice than what she’s about to say. “I tried sleeping in my room.”

It sounds even more stupid, saying it out loud. “I’ve been sleeping on this stupid couch for a month, and you’ve been so helpful with… this,” she adds, gesturing vaguely around them. “I thought I was getting better. I thought… maybe I was fixed. But I’m still fucked up.”

“Don’t say that.”

His hand moves away from hers, leaving Rey all cold and alone in the dark. “Why not? It’s the truth.” She wants to hear him again, wants to know he’s still here, protecting her from whatever it is she’s afraid of tonight. Maybe it’s of him leaving.

“It’s not,” he replies, firm and soft at the same time in a way she doesn’t quite understand. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re allowed not to like butterflies.”

“I do like them, now.”

Even though she can’t see him, Rey is positive she can feel Ben’s eyes on hers. The rest is easy to picture: wide brown eyes, raised eyebrows and just the hint of a smile she can hear in his words. “You do?”

“I do,” she nods. “I don’t know how you did it, but… I like them. Some of them.”

The chuckle they share is so genuine, Rey almost misses the candle Ben lights and settles between them. She notices once she realizes how close he is, and how warm his eyes are. Damn, she could easily get lost in those eyes.

“I never asked,” she adds in a murmur. “Why do you like them?”

His eyes darken over the flames dancing between them.

“They’re a symbol of hope and rebirth.” Rey doesn’t say anything; she just looks at him silently, waiting for him to continue. “I made some mistakes,” he says with a shrug. “It was a nice way to remember that everything ends, even dark times.”

“So what, you did drugs once and now you love butterflies?”

She regrets her joke the moment it leaves her mouth. Ben simply shakes his head. “Heavy family issues. Something about the prodigal son working for his parents’ worst enemy.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

She’s not sure why she’s sorry, or why she covers his hand with hers; all she knows is that he’s quick to lace their fingers together.

“You never talk about your family.”

It’s more of an observation than a question, but Rey feels confident enough to nod. It’s not a topic she talks about with ease, but she feels like she can trust Ben enough to. No _—_ she _knows_ that she trusts him.

“I don’t have one,” she says with a shrug. Ben’s reaction is a simple frown, encouraging her to continue. “They left when I was five. I don’t remember much, just… voices and screams.”

And there it is: the long, embarrassed silence that always follows this revelation. Rey knows it’s the usual reaction, she knows it _—_ still, she can’t help the little burst of panic that fills her at the sight of Ben’s frown, because _what if he leaves, too?_ Everyone always does when things get heavy, and she’s not sure she’s quite ready for Ben to disappear. Her heart misses a beat at the thought, and another at his next words.

“They _left_?”

She nods, because there’s not much to add, really: she wasn’t good enough even for her own parents to stay around and give her an idea of what a bad family dinner is like, or how hard it is to live up to their expectations. Sometimes, she’d like to know how it feels, even for just a moment.

Ben squeezes her hand as she feels tears starting to blur her vision.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t understand how anyone could leave you.”

Their eyes meet just as Rey feels a sudden movement on her left, followed by a familiar tickling on top of her hair. She hears Ben say something before he leans in like he always does when this happens, and her heart skips a beat, but she’s not sure whether it’s because of the tiny creature she can feel batting its wings against her forehead or how close Ben suddenly is. She can see the way his brow creases with focus, the care he puts in each of his movements, as if he’s scared she’s going to run away. She’s not sure she could; he’s so gentle and careful, and understanding, and patient, and _—_

She closes the short distance between their lips before she can chicken out.

His lips are soft, so _soft,_ but so _still_ she wonders if he’s even breathing until his lips finally move against hers. He kisses her in sweet, uncertain movements she meets with her own hesitation, until they fall in a rhythm that screams longing and despair.

“I’m sorry, I…” 

“No. Not sorry.” Ben mumbles against her lips.

She keeps kissing him, barely allowing his words to leave the short space between his lips _—_ she’s not sure she’ll ever get enough of those lips. She can’t stop, chasing his mouth every time he pulls away for air, claiming him with a little more eagerness each time. Ben meets her fervor equally, sneaking a hand through her hair and behind her neck as he deepens the kiss.

Rey feels her body roll on top of his. She’s not sure how, not sure at which point it happened, but the next thing she knows, she’s in the air, her arms and legs wrapped around Ben as he stands up from their spot. The absence of effort on his side is shocking, but Rey quickly goes back to his mouth, frustrated by the fact that it required him to pull a way for a second. He lets out a soft chuckle when her lips meet his again, and Rey feels herself smile as he takes them out of the greenhouse.

She has no idea how long the walk takes. Could be minutes, hours _—_ she’s too lost in the taste of Ben, Ben and his strong arms around her and these broad shoulders her hands hold onto. All she knows is that not long after the noise of the door opening, her back hits a wall with a muffled sound.

Ben is _everywhere_ _—_ his lips on her neck, his arms around her and his fingers digging into her thighs as she closes hers around his hair. She’s desperate to taste him, desperate to find some kind of grounding when she feels like she’s floating. He’s everywhere but also not really, and Rey needs _more_ . She needs to feel as close to him as she can, needs to claim him and never let him go. She’s not sure she would survive if he ever _—_

A sound leaves her as one of his hands sneaks between them and grazes the apex of her thigh. All the thoughts she ever had about him come rushing back, and God knows she’s had a lot of those. She’s thought about his mouth on hers _—_ and other places. She’s thought about his hands on her, grazing her skin like they’re doing right now as he makes him way up her thighs.

“Sorry, is that _—_ ”

“ _Yes_ .” She chokes on her words more than she says them, but his hand is _so close_ , she’s positive she’ll combust before he even takes her pants off.

Oh gosh, her pants _—_ she closes her eyes firmly when she remembers what she’s wearing. Out of everything she could’ve picked to go see Ben in the middle of the night, she had to choose _sweatpants_. And of course, this is the day something happens.

She huffs in frustration as Ben sneaks a finger under the elastic band, looking up at her like he’s waiting for her approval. She gives it in a blink, a firm nod that turns into another messy kiss she hopes will distract him from her outfit choices, but Ben doesn’t seem to mind at all. He takes her out of her sweatpants one leg after the other, not once letting her fall or break the kiss as the fabric glides along her skin. He does let out a strangled moan, though, when he realizes this was all she was wearing _—_ a moan that also leaves Rey when his hand finally reaches between her legs, warm and just as big as she’d imagined.

“You’re _—_ Rey _—_ ”

Another word follows, but Rey isn’t sure she understands _—_ or maybe she’s not really listening. His face disappears under her hair, in her neck, and she can feel him breathing against her, leaving warm kisses along her skin. Just when she thinks her heart rate is slowing, she’s being pressed against the wall, kissed with a devotion she’s never felt before as Ben trails a finger up her thigh in a way that makes her swallow whatever words she was about to say.

His name rolls off her tongue multiple times, a little more strangled with each of his movements. She’s not sure what she’s holding on to anymore: perhaps his shoulders, his hair, his face _—_ the only thing she’s sure of is that she’s going to come before he’s even taken his clothes off if he keeps going like this.

“Ben, wait _—_ ”

His movements slow down, but don’t stop. His eyes are wide open, staring at her from where he stands with complete awe. They’re dark too, darker than ever and penetrating behind the equally dark waves falling down his face. She wants to run her hands through those waves, kiss him until she gets lost in him and forgets how to breathe.

“You smell like coffee,” she murmurs. “You always do.”

She feels him smile against her shoulder as he pushes her shirt with the tip of his nose. The fabric glides over her skin, and she helps him undo the buttons as fast as she can. Her fingers are trembling with excitement, ripping with every move until she surrenders and lets the shirt pool around her waist. Ben chooses this moment to crash his lips against hers.

There’s a whole new level of eagerness in his kiss that Rey didn’t think possible. She catches a glimpse of him through her eyelashes, all frowny and focused, and her heart misses a beat. This is how he reacts to _her_ , this is the reaction she is causing and _oh_ , that makes her proud in a way she’s not sure she’s ever felt before.

“Let me take you somewhere.”

“Take me _—_ somewhere?” She almost chokes on her own words: his fingers keep grazing her folds slowly, teasing her until she digs her nails deeper into his shoulders. His _clothed_ shoulders _—_ she’ll have to do something about that.

“Yes. A date. Please.”

His kisses turn a little messier as he pushes a finger inside her, and _oh_ he’s exactly like Rey imagined and so much more. She’s positive he’s going to walk out of here with his shoulders covered in scratches but she doesn’t care _—_ all she cares about are the sensations rolling down her body, Ben’s warm breath hitting every inch of her skin as she squeezes her legs and arms around him in a desperate attempt not to fall. It’s a wonder how he manages to finger her against a damn wall and not even let her fall, but there seems to just be something impossible about this man that nears perfection, and Rey _—_ she’s not sure how she feels about it. Ecstatic, maybe _—_ a bit scared, too. It’s been so long since her last date, she’s not sure she’s still good at it. Hell, she’s not even sure she’s still good at what they’re about to do. It’s all so fast, and so _much_ _—_ not that she’s complaining, really. But she needs more. More time, more space, and more _him_.

“Put me down.”

His hand, his mouth _—_ all movements cease at her words. “What _—_ ”

“Ben, put me down. Please.”

She mourns the loss of his fingers as soon as they’re gone. Her feet meet the ground a second later, struggling to support her trembling legs as Ben pulls away, a frown of concern shadowing his face. He looks every bit concerned and lost, carefully removing his hands from her waist.

“I’m sorry, did I…”

Whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as Rey close the short distance between them. This kiss is lighter than the ones before, like a breeze after a tornado, just enough to cover her skin with shivers as she feels Ben smile against her. His smile tickles like the wings of the Blue Morpho, except the sensation travels down her chest to her stomach. It’s a nice feeling _—_ warm and light, like a hug after a long time apart from a loved one.

The thought lingers in her mind for a few seconds. She’s not sure what Ben is exactly, but she knows she wants him to be someone for her. She wants to let him in enough to see what could be, let him peek at her soul and have a look at his. Letting people in has always been particularly difficult, but there’s just something about Ben that makes her want to keep trusting him. With her fears, her body, and her heart.

“Everything’s okay?”

His words caress her mouth and stay there as she brings her lips to his again, softly, hesitantly, like a question. Ben replies silently, his hand reaching her neck and threading through her hair so softly she’s not sure she needs words or even an answer right now. What she needs right now is to keep feeling close to him, to feel safe in his arms as long as he’ll hold her. She’s not sure who moves first or who’s guiding who, but they’re crossing the cafe within seconds, Ben stumbling backwards while she follows with her hands firmly planted on his chest, struggling to undo the buttons of his shirt as he tries not to break the kiss.

The shirt falls at their feet, quickly trampled on as they progress through the chairs and tables. There’s a giggle between them, but she’s not sure whose it is: they’re a mess of teeth and smiles, almost unable to deepen the kiss. Her hands run through Ben’s hair until her fingers are laced in his waves and she can’t take them away, but she doesn’t really want to. She feels safe like this, tangled with him and close enough to feel the warmth of his skin on hers. She feels him against her stomach too, hard and throbbing while she fumbles with his zipper.

They sink on the floor in perfect sync, him with a thud and her much lighter. Her hair is in her eyes, his hands on her waist guiding her above him.

“Is that a yes?”

She keeps her eyes closed as she gives him a nod, but can’t help the smile spreading on her lips, nor the shivers running down her back as he sits up and wraps his arms around her.

They fit nicely together.

“Don’t let me go.”

She says it so low she’s not sure he hears it until his arms tighten around her.

“I won’t.”

His mouth trails down her jaw as he whispers it again. His lips feel so warm against her bare skin, causing shivers to erupt as they slide down her neck. He stops at her shoulder, plants a kiss there, and comes back to her face to capture a deep, long kiss that makes her squeeze her legs around his waist.

She feels him again then, harder and _so much closer_. Wrapping her hand around him comes so naturally, she wonders why they haven’t done it earlier. Everything with Ben feels natural, familiar, and so safe; she could fall asleep in his arms right now if she wasn’t absolutely hypnotized by the sensations he awakens in her and the need to feel him as close to her as humanly possible.

He makes her head spin and her blood boil in a way no one has before, and as terrifying as it is, Rey finds out that she likes it. It’s the first time she does.

The way she moves above him is hypnotizing. She’s soft and intense at the same time, whispering a series of nonsense in his ears while her nails dig into the skin of his shoulders with each thrust.

Maz would hate him if she knew what he’s doing behind her counter. Truth be told, Ben isn’t really proud either: Rey deserves more than doing this on the cold floor of a cafe, but she insisted she didn’t want him to take her home. She also insisted that she was okay when her whole body trembled under his hand, and insisted that he kept going when he asked if she liked it. If the moans leaving her are any indication, she does like it.

He feels her tongue graze her lips between kisses, like she’s unable to pull away even just to breathe _—_ and quite honestly, he doesn’t want to move either. Their lips barely ever part as she keeps moving, her legs and arms so tight around him Ben isn’t sure he exists anymore without her holding him. Her grip on his shoulders tightens as they pick up their pace, causing a strangled moan to cross Ben’s lips. It stays muffled as she captures his mouth with hers again.

There’s so much urgency in this kiss his breath hitches in his throat. It’s as if the whole world stopped around them, and nothing makes sense except for the feeling of Rey breathing hard against his neck, grazing her teeth in the crook of his neck and leaving marks along his skin as she comes undone above him.

Ben follows shortly after, her name on his lips as his hands clench around her waist. It’s a familiar feeling of floating while being set on fire, but also so different than usual. It’s as if a million butterflies are fluttering inside his chest, threatening to escape his careful control and pour into her, smothering her with all he feels for her. He keeps the lid closed for now, but there’s no way he’ll be able to hide it much longer if she keeps visiting him. Especially if the visits end like _this_.

They stay silent for a moment, panting and smiling at each other. There’s something satisfying about the way their chests heave in perfect harmony, something natural in the way his fingers slowly move from between her legs to her back and trace lazy circles on her skin. It’s like she was always supposed to be there, smiling at him like he just did something amazing. Like he deserves it.

Taking his eyes off her is almost painful.

“I should drive you home.”

He’s already prepared for the awkward walk back to her car and the inevitable call in the morning when she’ll realize her mistake and mumble a vague excuse through the phone. He’s prepared for the fallout of what just happened between them, even though he’s not sure he can live with it.

“You should make me some coffee and take me on a walk in the greenhouse.”

His eyes drift back to Rey immediately. She’s still smiling at him, with that luminous smile that hasn’t left his mind in weeks. Her hands trail up his chest to his face as she looks at him with an attention Ben isn’t sure he understands.

“And then,” she whispers, “you should take me on that date.”

He almost misses her grin as she closes the distance between them with a kiss. It’s a calm kiss, far more measured than the ones they exchanged earlier, but also much heavier. It’s filled with curiosity and promises, and maybe a little something that reminds him of the way his heart misses a beat every time he sees her. And maybe it’s her words, her thumbs caressing his cheeks, or the prospect of seeing her in his favorite place again, but Ben can feel his own wings spreading as the kiss grows longer and deeper.

He’s glad he decided to help Rey that day, glad she kept coming back and is beginning master her fear _—_ but more than anything, he’s glad when she comes back the day after, and the one after that, until she finally stays the night and lets him love her in his own bed after a date in what he hopes will be the first of many.


End file.
